The World is Black
by Flagg1991
Summary: Lucy deals with severe depression and attempts suicide, but is saved by one of her sisters and believes that she is falling in love with her. Cover by Lentex.
1. Manic Depression

Her world was black. Her clothes were black. Her hair was black. The things she talked about were black. _She_ , however, was not black; she never had been and she didn't think she ever would be. It was true that she enjoyed horror novels and would rather have dark hair than the blonde she was born with, but she wore her pale complexion and colorless clothes not because she felt a kinship with the night, but because she was hopelessly, utterly lost in the crowd.

She had nine sisters and a brother. Wherever you went in the house, there was a mob, or a line. It was easy to blend in and lose yourself. Her other siblings realized this, she thought, but she was the only one who was honest with herself. Her older sister Luna was the archetypical "rock chick." She played guitar, had short hair, called everyone "dude" and "bro." Her sister Lynn was a generic "jock"; everything was sports. Ball is life, you know. Luan tried to be funny, Leni was a fashionista type, and Lori...well, Lucy had never been able to get a good bead on Lori. She shared certain characteristics with Leni, but they were not carbon copies of one another. It made sense, Lucy figured, that Lori would escape the existential dread of being a faceless cog in a machine: She was the oldest. That was the way she stuck out.

The others, however, had adopted and developed distinctive personalities. Sometimes she wondered if these personalities were exaggerated (Lynn did like sports, but went full bore because go big or go home), or if they were total shams (Luan knowing her jokes were bad and hating them, but telling them because she couldn't come up with anything else). The former prospect was alright, but the latter scared her, because if it was true, it meant that her siblings weren't who she thought they were.

Was she a liar too? Sometimes she thought she was, and other times she was morally certain that she was an exaggerator. She sure wasn't the real Lucy Loud.

But...who _was_ the real Lucy Loud?

She didn't know, and that bothered her. She knew she like horror, she knew she liked walking through graveyards and reading the markers (less out of morbid curiosity and more out of historical interest...she liked history, and contemplating the life and times of people who lived in the 1800s endlessly fascinated her). She knew she enjoyed writing, though she suspected that she wasn't very good at it. Her poems sounded like hollow imitations of poets dead and gone. Increasingly, she found herself writing fan fiction for a cartoon she thought was "cute," and in the beginning she told herself it was fun. It was, but she also thought that she liked doing it because it was easy. When she attempted a short story, she found herself struggling to build characters and imbue them with emotions. She had emotions, she understood them somewhat, but weaving them into a fictional character was difficult. With fan fiction, you could assume everyone knew what the character was like, so all you really had to do was color inside the lines. That was easy. It was also safe.

She didn't pray to the Devil, like some people probably assumed. To be honest, she didn't even believe in the Devil. Or God. She believed that life was organic, and when you died, you simply stopped existing. Sometimes that thought was comforting, because it meant that no one was really burning in a sulfurous pit for all eternity, and other times it was terrifying, because she could not contemplate not existing. You could compare it to sleep, but even when you're asleep you're existing and your brain is working.

The process of dying was even scarier. She remembered reading somewhere that at the moment of death (as at the moment of birth), the human brain releases a flood of endorphins that act as a sort of hallucinogenic. Imagine you're dying, then suddenly you start to trip. What might you see? What might you hear? Demons, monsters, the phantoms of past misdeeds. She laid awake at night, turning that gruesome thought over in her mind the way one would a strange and alien object found in the dirt. She hoped that when she went her brain was instantly destroyed so she wouldn't have to see or hear anything, and wouldn't spend her last dying moments terrified and thinking she was going to hell.

 _Who are you, Lucy Loud?_

No one. She was no one. Just another face in the Loud house, just another average person living an average life. She would grow up, she would die, and one day everyone who knew her would be dead too, and she would be only a name on a headstone. She felt restless. She felt like she was wasting her life. _You're eight,_ she reminded herself, but that didn't help. She felt trapped. Claustrophobic. Sometimes she had trouble breathing. Sometimes she felt so depressed that she wanted to curl up and cry. Rarely, she felt suddenly very happy and energetic. She had read about bipolar disorder, and wondered if she had it. If she did, she had the worst kind: The highs were few and far between, the lows more frequent.

Sometimes she thought of killing herself, but her fear of dying reared its ugly head. But what was a few minutes of an oxygen starved, chemical-flood brain when after that, there was no more bad? She would never be depressed again, she would never feel lost and ignored, she would never feel anything. That thought appealed to her.

And on August 9, she drew a bath, slit her wrists, and submerged herself in the tub.

It'll all be over soon, she told herself.

But it wasn't.


	2. Angel of Mercy

Historical moments are often remembered by where one was when they occurred. Everyone remembered where they were and what they were doing when the news broke that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated, everyone remembered where they were and what they were doing when they first heard about the terrorist attacks in New York City, and everyone in the Loud house remembered where they were and what they were doing the day Lucy tried to kill herself.

Lisa was busy in her lab, studying the led levels of the family tap water ("After what's been occurring in Flint, I don't trust it"), Lola and Lana were outside having a tea party with stuffed animals, frogs, and crickets; Lynn was at friend's house playing basketball and getting her ass kicked (something she would never admit to in a thousand years), Luan was trying to write a comedy routine for an upcoming talent show but crashing and burning (sometimes her brand of humor annoyed even her), Luna was trying to figure out why her favorite amp sounded all fuzzy and distorted, Lori was texting Bobby, Lincoln was playing video games in his room, their parents were having an argument over money in the kitchen (there's just not enough of it to go around), and Leni, poor, sweet, gentle Leni needed to pee.

Leni liked many things, but could not honestly say she was "addicted" to any of them (she loved fashion, but she didn't, like, get all sweaty and stuff when she couldn't do it). Well...except for chi lattes. She was freaking _hooked_ on those. That morning, she had Lori drive her to Starbucks (Leni would have to make Lori's bed for a week in return...better grab the hammer and nails!), but that was okay. She bought six chi lattes. When they handed them to Lori through the drive-through window, her eyes widened. "Jesus, Leni, how many of these things are you planning to drink?"

"All of them. Duh."

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack," Lori grumbled as she pulled away from the window.

Leni's plan was to drink them sparingly throughout the day, finishing the last after dinner. By the end of the ten mile journey home, she had already finished one and was starting on another. She smacked her lips. "These are, like, so good."

"Right," Lori said.

Inside, Leni stashed them in the fridge and went upstairs to look at fashion magazines. She had just settled down on her bed when she slurped up the last of her latte. "Oops. Guess it's time for a refill."

"Seriously?" Lori asked from her bed.

"Yup."

Fifteen minutes later, as Leni was losing herself in an article on glitter gloss, she sucked air. She looked at her cup and shook it.

"Round...uh...three."

"It's four," Lori said. "You drank four of those things in less than an hour."

Downstairs, she grabbed another latte and went upstairs. She tried to sip this one slowly, but she was feeling wired, so she ripped off the lid and threw it aside, tilting the cup back and shivering as icy slush dropped down her throat.

"Yum."

She got up and started into the hall, her fists clenched and her body shaking.

"Alright, you need to chill," Lori said.

"That's why I'm going back for more."

Lori was shocked by her sister's (attempted?) wordplay. _Great, when she drinks too much coffee she turns into Luan._

In the kitchen, Leni grabbed a latte from the fridge and slammed it. Oh, boy, that was so good. She went back for another, but the shelf was empty.

"Where are my lattes?" she asked herself.

Using the fingers on her right hand, she counted. There was the one in the car, the one when she got home, three then four because Lori said four, another, and this one. She gasped. She drank them all!

It was then that her bladder twinged. Uh-oh. She'd worry about not having any juice when she was done peeing.

At the bathroom door she knocked, dancing from one foot to the other. "Hello? I, like, really have to pee."

No one answered, so she tried the door. Locked.

"Hello? Anybody?" She knocked on the door again.

Still, nothing. It wouldn't be the first time someone locked the door and then closed it on their way out. Luckily, one of the things Leni was good at was lockpicking. Taking a metal clip from her hair, she bent it, inserted it into the lock, and popped the tumblers: The door swung open.

"Thank G-"

That's when she saw Lucy in the tub, her hair floating around her head. Her face was bloodless and white, her arms splayed at her sides in an upside down V shape. The water was the color of rust. Leni stopped, confusion spreading through her mind; she couldn't make sense of the scene before her, which happened often.

"Lucy?"

She took a step toward the tub, and saw the angry slashes on her sisters wrists. Blood seeped into the water.

All at once, Leni's brain made the connection, and she let out a high, blood-curdling scream, her need to pee suddenly forgotten. By the time Lori, Lisa, and Lynn appeared at the door, Leni had dragged Lucy out of the tub and cradled her head in her lap. "Call 911!" she cried tearfully.

Lori whipped out her cellphone and dialed 911 while Lynn and Lisa shoved their way in and knelt beside their sister. "What happened?" Lynn asked breathlessly.

"It's clearly a suicide attempt," Lisa said. He felt for her sister's pulse. "It's weak but regular."

"Lucy?" Leni cried, stroking her younger sister's cheek. "Can you hear me?"

Yes. Unbeknownst to her or anyone else, Lucy could both hear _and_ see Leni. Her soft, worried face backlit angelically against the overhead light, her tearful eyes. Her touch was warm and gentle against Lucy's cold flesh. She was aware only of Leni, her angel of mercy, and before long, not even of her.


	3. Dying

Death ain't all it's cracked up to be. Heaven, hell, or haunting. Those were the options, right?

Wrong.

For a time she drifted in the void, but on some level she was aware of her existence, which led her to believe that she was wrong and that there really _was_ an afterlife. That both scared and exhilarated her. Scared her because she might wind up in hell, and exhilarated her because she was naturally curious, and she was voyaging into the final Great Unknown. People guessed after what lied beyond the threshold of death, but no one _knew_. She was about to find out, and that was cool.

When she reached the afterlife, it looked a lot like the house in Royal Woods. Smelled like it, too. Bitter disappointment crashed over her.

Siblings came and went. She did things. Wrote poems, crawled into the vents to be alone, laid in bed and imagined what dying was like. Lincoln was there, but while it _looked_ like Lincoln, she knew it was actually Luan. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"No."

Lucy didn't hear the joke, but Lincoln-Luan slapped his-her knee and laughed. They had dinner. She sat in bed, feeling out of place and as if she didn't belong. She mused that everyone in her family was fighting to stand out, but by doing so, fell deeper into a pit of gray meaningless. What did it all matter? There was no point. No point in the arguments, no point in the wars and the rants she read on message boards. We all die someday, and life goes on. In fifty short years, everything that you think is so vitally important becomes ancient history. Stand out, blend in, it's all the same, because no one lives forever. Sure, people still read Dickins and Chaucer, but give it another five hundred years, or a thousand, and even they will fade.

Everything does eventually: Even the mightiest mountains erode over time, and become fields, and those fields stand for ten thousand years before a flood comes along and turns them into an ocean. Ten thousand years after that, the water drains and it goes back to being a field, or maybe a beach, or some other damn thing.

All of these things we make such a _business_ of...what do they matter in the long run? Oh, lovely, slavery is over and gay people can get married. Awesome, until you realize that there will always be a minority, an oppressed class, a group everyone else spits on and reviles. Yesterday it was blacks, today it's transpeople, in ninety years it'll be people from District A, and fifty thousand years from now it'll be people who were born with two eyes instead of six. One thing men are good at is finding reasons to hate each other.

 _Hell. I'm in hell._

She despaired, but something happened then: A light fell from the sky, bright and warm. She squinted into it, and saw the face of God coming down to meet her, and God looked a lot like Leni. She didn't understand. Nothing made sense. But did it ever?

When God spoke, Lucy came awake with a gasp. Bright white light filled the world, and her mind was stuffed with warm wool. She turned left, the right. People were around her, their faces blurry and grotesque.

"It's okay, Lucy," one of the things said slowly, drunkenly, its arm reaching out to her. "You're in the hospital."

Lucy pulled away and screamed. More things came into view, one of them holding a needle. "This will help calm you down."

The needle sank into her arm, and the world slowly swam away. She closed her eyes, but did not lose consciousness. She heard people talking, machines beeping, a telephone ringing. For a time, she let her mind wander, but she felt the presence of demons close by, and retreated back into her head. She was safe. She was in the hospital. She was drugged up, that was all.

She dropped off, and when she woke again, she was in a spacious room with wood paneled walls. To her right, a window looked out into the night. She was woozy and her mouth was dry. She coughed, and to her left, something moved, startling her.

"Lucy?"

It was her mother, her face a mask of concern. She was sitting in a chair. She got up. "Oh, Lucy, honey."

Lucy watched blearily as her mother came to her and sat on the bed, her lips trembling and her eyes welling with tears. "Baby," she said, and touched her cheek.

Where was she again? She looked around. Oh, the hospital. Why? She couldn't remember. Something to do with Lincoln. He was telling bad jokes again and...

...and what?

"Honey, how do you feel?"

Lucy blinked. Her vision was still distorted. "Funny," she finally said.

"They gave you a sedative. You woke up and started screaming."

She tried to remember waking up and screaming, but couldn't. She did, however, remember a needle.

"What happened?"

Mom's face screwed up in an expression of misery. "Don't worry, sweetie. Just focus on getting better."

"Okay," Lucy said, and flopped back against the pillow. Getting better sounded nice. She didn't like feeling this way.

She slept, and soon warm sunlight fell through the window, warming her skin. She stirred and came groggily awake. For a minute, she didn't know where she was, then memeories came flooding back. Her mother crying by her bedside, a horrible creature stabbing her with a needle, demons...

...cutting her wrists.

She looked at her hands. White gauze was wrapped around each slash mark. She looked around the room, and noticed something: There were no machines. In hospital rooms, you saw all kinds of things: Heart moniters, IV stands, a million other pieces of equipment she couldn't name.

"I see you're awake," a voice said, and Lucy started. A nurse stood by the doorway. "How do you feel?"

"A little groggy," Lucy said, "where am I?"

"Saint Bernard's," the nurse said.

She and the nurse talked for a minute, Lucy's mind tuning out. She was still drugged. Ugh.

"Knock, knock."

Lucy looked up. A tall, bald man with glasses was coming into the room. He wore a white lab coat and pale gray pants. "I'm Dr. Fred Manwaring," he said, "and you must be Lucy Loud."

"Yeah," she said, "I guess."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Loopy."

"Ah. That's the sedative we gave you last night. It'll wear off in time. "Do you know why you're here?"

Lucy nodded. "Yeah."

She knew all too well.


	4. Killing Time

Lucy didn't realize she was on a psych ward until that afternoon, when Dr. Manwaring escorted her to a group therapy session. The meeting was held in a tranquil dayroom with gray industrial carpeting, low lighting, and smooth wood paneled walls. Nine other kids ranging in age from eight to fifteen, all dressed in hospital garments, sat in a circle around a fat woman with frizzy red hair and glasses. Her perky attitude irritated Lucy.

"Hi!" she said when she saw Lucy. "I'm Linda, it's _so_ nice to meet you."

 _I wish I could say the same,_ Lucy thought, _but under the circumstances..._

Instead, she took the woman's proffered hand and muttered a half-hearted greeting. Linda directed her to a chair in-between a tall, skinny boy with a rat face and a girl with pale blonde hair and dark circles around her eyes.

"Since we have a new member," Linda said, "why don't we all introduce ourselves?"

Each of the kids spoke in turn, their names sailing in one ear and out the other. Tommy something, Katie this, Lamont that. When it was her turn, she said, "Lucy."

"We'll all very glad you could join us today, Lucy," Linda said. "Would you like to tell the group why you're here?"

"Not particularly."

Linda cocked her head. "Oh, but sharing is _so_ good for you, Lucy. Keeping things bottled up inside is what hurts the most. Right, guys?"

A couple of the other kids nodded or murmured their agreement.

Whatever. "I tried to kill myself."

Linda made a pitiful face. "And why did you do that?"

Lucy shrugged. "I don't know."

"Don't be shy, Lucy. Open up. _Let us in."_

Oh, God. "I don't remember exactly what I was feeling when I did it," Lucy said honestly, "but it's all so pointless, and I was sick of having the same thoughts."

"Why do you say it's all pointless?"

"Because what's life? It's killing time. You pick up hobbies, and jobs, and houses, and drug addictions, and husbands, and kids, and God knows what else, and you put them in your life just to fill the time." Lucy stopped for a moment and tried to collect her thoughts. Her mind was racing again, as it often did. "That's all we're doing. Killing time. Waiting to die. And we go through life so puffed up _look at me, I'm smart,_ or _look at me, I'm a writer_ or _look at me, I'm right about X_ like we're not just people waiting to die like twenty billion other people before us."

Linda nodded. "That's true, Lucy. In a sense we _are_ killing time, but do you want to know something?"

Lucy shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

"Just because we're killing time doesn't mean we can't be happy and fulfilled. Do things you like, surround yourself with people you love, do good, because doing good makes us _feel_ good. Let me put it this way: You're waiting at the doctor's office. You're sitting there grumpy with your arms crossed. Of course you're going to be bored and restless and want to leave. But if you're doing something you love, like reading a good book or playing a fun game, that time goes by quickly, and it's not so bad."

Lucy shrugged. She had a point.

"What is your family like, Lucy?"

"Big."

"Oh, do you have many brothers and sisters."

"Yes. Nine sisters and a brother."

"Wow," Linda said, "that _is_ a big family. Are you close?"

"Yes," Lucy said, "very."

"You have people who love and care about you. That's good. How do you think what you did made them feel?"

Lucy hadn't thought about that yet. Now that she was, she felt a rush of guilt. "Bad, I guess."

"If your life was meaningless and pointless, do you think they would care if went away?"

Lucy shrugged. Suddenly she didn't feel very much like talking.

"You have meaning to them."

"Yeah," Lucy muttered.

"And that's a pretty good start."

Later, alone in her room, Lucy thought of her family. She vaguely remembered them gathering around her in the bathroom (Leni was crying), or was that a dream?

"Hey, baby."

Lucy turned. Her mother was standing in the doorway. "Can we come in?"

Suddenly, everyone crammed in behind her. All her siblings. There was Lori, and Luna, and Lynn.

When Lucy caught sight of Leni, her breath caught in her throat. A strange feeling, an emotion that Lucy had never had before and couldn't explain, went through her. She groped for a word to describe her sister, and could only pull up one: Radiant. Leni absolutely shone with brilliance. Her golden hair was like fire, and her big, doe-like eyes shimmered with...with...Lucy didn't know. Love? Gentleness? Something.

Lucy shook her head and was aware that her brother and sisters were surrounding her bed, all of them talking at once, asking her how she felt, if she was okay. "Here," Lynn said, handing her her prized bust of Edwin the vampire. "I brought you something to keep you company."

"I brought you a video of Lincoln doing stupid things," Luan said, "after all, laughter _is_ the best medicine."

"I brought you this," Lincoln said, handing her her poetry notebook. "In case inspiration strikes."

A small smile touched Lucy's face. "Thanks, guys."

"How are you feeling?"

Leni was standing next to her, looking uncertain. Lucy surprised herself by reaching out and taking her sister's hand. "Good," she said, and that wasn't entirely a lie.

Lucy was struck by the sudden memory of Leni's cying face, and she suddenly felt tears welling in her own eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping Leni's hand more tightly. "I'm so sorry."


	5. A Gift or Something

They gave her medication, but she didn't like it: It made her tired and sick to her stomach. She took it, though, and went to every group meeting with a smile on her face. After a week, they decided she go could home. She would have to continue taking her medication and see a therapist, but that was okay. In the nine days since her failed suicide attempt, Lucy had come to realize something: She didn't want to die. Not really. Linda was right when she pointed out that it was a cry for help rather than a serious effort. After all, why did she go across the street instead of down the road? She knew well that the best way to do it was to cut up the arm, not across the wrist.

So yes, she came to realize, she was crying out for help. But why? And what kind of help was she hoping for?

These and other thought swirled through her head as her father drove her home. She was anxious to be back in her own bed and among her siblings, especially Leni. For some reason, Lucy yearned to be close to her, to look at her and listen to her talk. There was something about Leni, something that drew Lucy. She realized that even before she tried to take her own life she had felt a special something for her second oldest sister; aside from Lynn, who she shared a room with, she had always liked Leni the best. She couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, but she would eventually: Another thing she had learned during her time in the hospital was that the human mind is a dark chamber of secrets, and opening it is a titanic effort that requires great energy. She wanted to unlock her mind. She wanted to know what lurked in her subconscious, to trace every thought, opinion, and belief back to their root cause. She wanted to know why.

The house on Franklin Ave looked the same as it always had, but it felt different. When she walked through the door, she was met by the rest of her family. "Surprise!" they all yelled. There were streamers and balloons, a cake, and lots of hugs. It was a nice time.

She hugged Leni the longest. "Thank you for finding me," is all she could think to say. She grasped for more, but came up empty, so she finally let her sister go.

"I'm glad I drank all those chi lattes," Leni said. "I...I was really scared."

"I know," Lucy said, "and I'm sorry I put you through that. I'm sorry I put _all_ of you through that. I wasn't thinking right."

Later on, she sat on her bed and looked around. Being home felt strange. Of course it does, she told herself, you were gone for almost two weeks. She didn't like it, though. What if it never felt normal again? What if there was something wrong with her beyond depression? What if she was psychologically disturbed? She remembered reading about a man who had a constant sense of déjà vu; talk about hell. What if her home always felt...strange?

She tried to push those thoughts out of her mind and read, but she couldn't force her mind to focus on the words. She read the same passage again and again but still could not comprehend what it was saying. She finally sighed, closed the book, and laid down. She heard her siblings coming and going, laughing, talking, arguing, the same things they always did. The sunlight fell across the ceiling in the same way, the AC clicked on and off at the same intervals, she felt restless. Why? Why did she feel this way? She got up and went to the bathroom, even though she didn't have to use it. Then she went downstairs and got a juice box even though she wasn't thirsty. Back in her room, she drank it.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Leni was standing in the doorway. Lucy suppressed a smile. "Alright."

"You seem kind of...I don't know...out of it."

Lucy shrugged. "Kind of. I just feel strange."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Lucy opened her mouth to say that she didn't, but she did. She wanted to tell someone hwo she felt, and she wanted that someone to be Leni.

"Sure."

Leni came in and sat on the edge of the bed. "What's up?"

Lucy sighed. Where to begin? "For starters, everything's the same, but different, somehow. Everyone's doing the same things, every _thing's_ doing the same things, and I'm starting to feel like a fish flopping around on a dock. I'm going to wake up tomorrow and it's going to happen all over again, then school's going to start, then every day is going to be the same, then I'll get a job, and every day will be the same."

"Well," Leni said, "why don't you do something different?"

"Like what?"

Leni thought for a moment. "I know!"

"What?"

"BRB!"

Leni jumped up and rushed out of the room. Lucy watched her go, then looked down at her hands. She didn't feel like doing anything, new _or_ old. Everything's the same. Was that really what was bothering her? Would she feel any different if every day was completely different? No, she didn't think she would. She'd get tired of it and want to go back to her old routine, only to start feeling the same claustrophobia.

Her feelings definitely weren't environmental, it was organic, emanating from her own brain, tainting the world around her.

Leni came back into the room. "Come on!"

"Where are we going?" Lucy asked as she got up.

"The mall!"

Ugh, the mall?

Lucy looked into Leni's innocent, overjoyed face, and, suddenly, the mall didn't seem so bad.

Lori drove them. Later Leni told her that Lori didn't make her doing anything in return, which surprised her. Usually if you wanted a ride, you had to do something for Lori. Make her bed or rearrange her underwear drawer or whatever. Lucy rarely asked for rides.

It was a Thursday afternoon in August. The mall parking lot was crammed, and inside, so many people moved along the promenade that you had to turn sideways if you wanted to get by. As they walked, Leni looked left and right like a kid in a candy store, "Ooooing" at this and "Ahhhhing" at that. It was kind of cute, and Lucy felt something stirring in her stomach. A sort of...longing, yes, that's what it was, but for what?

"Where do you want to go first?" Leni asked.

"I don't care," Lucy said.

"Hot Topic's having a half off sale."

"Eh."

"I saw _the_ cutest dress when I walked by the other day. You'd look totes adorable in it."

"Alright," Lucy acquiesced.

Five minutes later, they were standing in a dimly lit store with crappy emo music blasting out of overhead speakers. Though many people assumed she must like the kinds of bands they play at Hot Topic, Lucy did not. She didn't like music much in general, though some of the things her mom and dad listened to were alright, and, deep down, she liked one or two of Mick Swagger's songs. Leni went through a rack. "I know I saw it," she said thoughtfully. "Found it!"

She pulled out a plain black dress much like the one Lucy was wearing. Lucy took it and looked it over. It was certainly the type of thing she would wear. "I like it," she said.

"Oh, look, shoes!"

Lucy followed her to a shelf laden with shoes. "These high tops are cute," Leni said, pulling down a pair of solid black Chuck Taylors. Lucy took them and turned them over in her hands. They weren't really her thing, but Leni was standing over her with puppy dog eyes and asking, "So? Do you like them?" and she could do nothing but nod and smile.

After Hot Topic, they went to some preppy store that Leni liked. The clothes were all so bright and loud that Lucy's head ached. Leni took a bunch of outfits into the changing room, then modeled each for Lucy. "So? How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Lucy said, and meant it.

"Thank you! I don't think it's my color, though."

"It's fine."

Leni looked good in every color. She was so bright, warm, and bubbly, that she could make a black trash bag look good. Lucy felt that peculiar longing in her stomach, like a ripple across still waters, and slightly grimaced. It wasn't a very good feeling at all.

When they were done, they went to the food court, Leni babbling about chi lattes. "They are, like, so good, I am totally addicted. Do you want one?"

Lucy started to say no, that cold coffee drinks were hedious, but instead she blurted, "Yes."

After waiting in line and paying, they took their coffees to an empty table and sat down. A skylight window allowed golden late summer sunshine to bathe the wide area. Lucy took a sip of her latte, and was surprised to find that it _was_ good.

"Wow," she said, "it's tasty." 

"Told you," Leni said, and took a drink of hers. "Are you feeling better?"

Lucy took stock of her mind and emotions. "Yes."

"That's good," Leni said, wincing.

"Brain freeze?"

"No, I have a headache," she said, "but it's just my Ren..." she snapped her mouth closed as though she had been about to share a great and terrible secret.

"Your what?" Lucy asked.

Leni sighed. "Okay, but if I tell you you have to _promise_ you won't tell anyone else. Okay?"

"Okay," Lucy said.

"I have Rentschler's Disease."

Lucy stared blankly for a moment. "What's that?"

Leni took a breath. "It's, like, a brain disorder that makes your brain misfire and, like, get things crossed and confused. Remember when the lights went out and I thought I was blind? That's because my brain didn't, you know, read the signal right, and thought I was blind, so it sent a signal and _I_ thought I was blind. It's kind of hard to explain."

"Is it serious?" 

Leni shrugged and looked away. "Kind of."

"How?"

I'll probably be in a nursing home by the time I'm forty."

Lucy's jaw dropped. _"What?"_

"Yeah, and I'll probably have dementia too. Or oldstimers."

Cold horror flooded through Lucy. Looking into her sister's bright, happy face and imagining her being bedridden and unable to care for herself in twenty short years, Lucy's heart sank into her stomach.

"It's okay, though, it doesn't bother me."

"How can it not bother you?" Lucy found herself asking.

"Because it makes every day I don't have to be in a nursing home that much better." She put her finger to her chin. "It's, like, a _gift_ or something."

Lucy opened her mouth to talk, but Leni cut her off. "Oooo, look, a photo booth! Let's take pictures!"

A photo booth sat along the wall between a mechanical horse and an arcade game. Leni got up, and Lucy followed. Inside, they sat side-by-side while Leni fed a dollar into the slot. A screen in front of them cautioned them to wait a moment, then counted down, five through one.

"Cheese!" Leni said, throwing her arms around her sister.

One dollar bought them eight pictures which came through a slot. Lucy looked them over. Leni give her rabbit ears, her smiling as Leni kissed her cheek, them putting their heads together and making silly faces.

Lucy kept the photos on her, and several times throughout the afternoon, as Leni tried on shoes and browsed for handbags, she took them out of her pocket and looked at them, tears coming to her eyes at one point. She would cherish them always.

They ate pizza at the food court just as the sun was beginning to set. "I had a lot of fun today," Lucy said.

"Me too," Leni said, "we, like, don't get to hang out that much. It's sad."

"Yeah," Lucy said, then brightened. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"That sounds like fun."

Lori came to get them at seven-thirty, and on the car ride home, Leni fell asleep, her head swaying back and forth.

"Looks like your big day tuckered her out," Lori said.

"Yeah," Lucy said, "but it was a good day."

She was smiling.


	6. Am I In Love With My Sister?

That night, Lucy lie awake in bed, staring up at a moonbeam stretching across the plaster. Her thoughts alternated between happy and sad: Happy because she had a good day bonding with her beautiful, vivacious sister, and sad because her beautiful, vivacious sister would be a comatose vegetable in a nursing home in twenty years, maybe less.

When they got home, she Googled Rentschler's Disease. It was a "degenerative malformation of the cerebral cortex" and often rendered sufferers "mentally incapacitated" by their thirties. It was named for a man named Robert Rentschler who suffered the first identifiable case in the 1920s. He was famous for being absent-minded, "doltish," and forgetful. He enjoyed a brief career in vaudeville from 1921 to 1925, when he was mentally crippled by the disease that would later bear his name. He died in 1932 after four years of raving dementia.

Lucy tried to imagine that happening to poor, sweet Leni, and tears came to her eyes. Why? Why did terrible things have to happen to good people?

She didn't know. She suspected that no one really did, though they tried to come up with answers that fit their worldview. God this, or shit happens that. For her, that wasn't good enough. What kind of world was this where an asshole like Charles Manson can live to be eighty-fucking-years-old, but Leni Loud couldn't survive her forties?

The unfairness of it all made her sick to her stomach. She sighed, sat up, and wished she had a cigarette. In the movies and books, those always relieved people's stress, and right now she could use some stress relief. Unfortunately, she didn't have anything on hand, so she sat in a spill of moonlight, her knees drawn up to her chest, rocking back and forth. Poor Leni. She didn't deserve this.

Restless now, Lucy got up and paced the room. Lynn snored and stirred but did not wake. Lucy's sadness slowly turned to rage. Why was the world so fucked up? Why did people have to starve and kill each other and get sick? Why did such fucking awful things happen? "Well, God..." fuck God. No, no, don't fuck God, because God's not there. Maybe he was at one time, he sure as shit wasn't there now. God died sometime early in the 20th Century, and that's when everyone started killing each other. Stalin, Hitler, Manson, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, the IRA, Chairman Mao, Al-Qaida, ISIS. Can't forget AIDS, the atomic bomb, jet fighters, flamethrowers, and...and...

Lucy trembled at the injustice. She wanted to see Leni.

She told herself no, go back to bed, but the overwhelming desire to see her sister, to touch her, to hold her and cherish every last minute she had with her was so great that she found herself creeping out into the hall before she even realized she'd set a definite course.

For a long time, she stood in the darkness, listening to the house slumber. A clock ticked rhythmically. The vents blew air in a silent roar. She tiptoed down the hall and paused at Lori and Leni's door, debating with herself on whether she should enter or not. She made up her mind, turned the knob, and slipped in, closing the door behind her.

She let her eyes adjust to the dark, which was deeper here than it had been in the hall, and went over to Leni's bed. She stood there for a long time, looking down at her sister's sleeping form. She wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, but she also didn't want to disturb her.

Sighing, Lucy climbed into Leni's bed. Leni started and thrashed. "Who's there?" she asked.

"It's just me," Lucy whispered.

"Lucy?"

"I-Can I lay with you for a little while?"

"Okay," Leni said. Lucy laid her head on her chest, and Leni wrapped her arm around Lucy's shoulders. Leni's heart beat a steady tempo against Lucy's ear.

"I was thinking about what you told me earlier," Lucy said.

"What did I tell you?"

"Your...Rentschler's."

"Oh," Leni said. "Don't worry about it, honey. I'm okay."

"I know," Lucy said, "I just...I don't want to lose you. Ever."

Leni hugged her close. "It has to happen sometime. But that's, like, years and years away. It's no big deal."

"I had a lot of fun today," Lucy said.

"So did I. You wanna do something tomorrow?"

"Sure. What?"

"I don't know," Leni said, "but we'll think of something."

After that, neither of them spoke, Lucy simply enjoying the warm closeness of her older sister. Leni's breathing slowed, and Lucy looked up at her: She was asleep, her lips slightly parted. In her mind's eye, Lucy saw herself kissing them. Not an innocent peck, but a deep, hungry French kiss. The thought repulsed her, but also excited her.

Instead of doing it, she snuggled against Leni's breast and let herself drift. Soon, her mind was fuzzy and her thoughts were disjointed. Later, she fell into the deepest, most restful sleep she had ever known. In that sleep, she dreamed: Her and Leni holding hands at the mall, her and Leni talking and staring deeply into each other's eyes, her and Leni kissing. When she came languidly awake in the morning sun, Leni stirring next to her, she asked herself: Am I in love with my sister?


	7. A Walk in the Park

_Am I in love with my sister?_

That question haunted Lucy all day. At breakfast, Leni brought up them taking a walk in the park later on, and Lucy couldn't even bring herself to look her sister in the eyes as they gave a noncommittal response.

Alone in her room (Lynn and Lincoln were playing baseball in the backyard), Lucy took a thorough inventory of her emotions. She certainly _loved_ her sister, she cared for her, and wanted to be around her, but was she really _in love_ with her? She was perturbed that she couldn't say. She had never been in love before. She'd had crushes before, and while this felt similar, it was different. She remembered the previous night when she wanted to kiss Leni on the lips, and the thought sent a thrill through her. Why?

She didn't know. God, she didn't. She got up and started pacing. What was wrong with her? What kind of pervert falls in love with their _sister?_ The idea of forbidden love was nice and all, but this was some next level stuff: The only people who fell in love with their families were hillbillies, right? And the British royals. Can't forget them. Lucy always thought it was funny that in America, inbreds lived in the hills while in England they lived in Buckingham Palace.

Was it normal to feel this way? She wondered. It had to happen more often than anyone cared to admit. Her emotions had been all over the place lately too. Was it possible that she was mixing signals? Was something wrong with her brain? Was it her medication?

No answers presented themselves, and she sighed. She was just about to throw herself onto the bed when Leni spoke from the doorway: "Do you want to go to the park?"

Lucy started and turned. Her sister was so beautiful.

"Maybe," she said. She wanted to not be around Leni so she could think clearly and work through her emotions, but she always wanted to be _with_ Leni, because Leni made her happy. She knew that she should probably beg off: Serious emotional introspection was, at this point, more important than running off and playing in the park, but she didn't _want_ to be lonely and introspective right now. She wanted to spend time with her sister.

"Yes," Lucy said, "I do."

"Great!" Leni said and smiled brightly. "Meet me downstairs in ten minutes." She disappeared, and Lucy sat heavily on the edge of her bed. She was so ashamed of herself that her stomach rolled. Leni was innocent and pure and good and just wanted to spend time with her little sister, and here she was possibly falling in fucking _love_ with her. She was a sick freak. She should have bled out in the tub.

If it hadn't been for Leni...

Lucy sighed and got up. She stood by the front door with her arms crossed until Leni appeared. "Come on," Leni said.

Leni was secretly glad that Lucy wanted to spend time with her. Leni loved all her siblings, but rarely ever got to spend quality time with them; and Lucy was one of the ones she spent the least time with. When she found Lucy bleeding in the tub, Leni felt, for perhaps the first time in her life, true _terror_. She was terrified Lucy would die, and the thought of losing her, especially given that they spent so little time together, made Leni want to cry. She wasn't the smartest person in the world, but she knew that Lucy was hurting and not thinking right (in a different way than her, but kind of the same), and she very much wanted to help her.

As they made their way toward the park, following a maze of residential streets lined with trees and comfortable old houses, Leni wracked her brain for a way to broach the subject without, like, jumping in headfirst.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, and mentally slapped herself in the face. Smooth move.

"What?" Lucy asked.

Leni sighed. "Why did you try to kill yourself?"

For a long time Lucy didn't reply, and Leni was scared she had pushed her sister away. "I just didn't want to do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Live," Lucy said. "Sometimes...sometimes I just feel so out of place, and I get the feeling that something just isn't right. It's weird, I know, but I feel like that all the time. And I start thinking about life and the world and..." she trailed off.

"I know it's hard," Leni said. "When I first found out about my Rentschler's, I was really depressed."

"But you got over it."

"It took a long time. You just have to realize...like, people love you and you matter to them, and as long as you're alive, you can do great things."

They were in the park now, following a dirt trail through a stand of leafy trees. The laughter of children and the smell of flowers scented the warm summer air.

"Sometimes I feel restless, and sad." Lucy stopped and thought for a moment. "And...a lot of the times, when I get sad, there really _isn't_ a reason. All those thoughts and feelings come after."

"That's the thing," Leni said. "When you're sad, everything is worse. Like, when you're really tired and getting up to go pee is _reaaaally_ hard."

Lucy chuckled. Then, seriously, "How do I keep from getting sad?"

"Do things that make you happy."

Lucy meditated on that for a moment. That wasn't all there was to it, she knew. They diagnosed her as bipolar and said she needed to take medication (it took the edge off, but she still wasn't entirely happy), but Leni wasn't entirely wrong. Doing things that make you happy should make you happy, right?

What would make her happy?

Come to think of it, she _was_ happy, or as close to it as she could get. The sun felt good against her skin and she was with Leni, her gentle, caring older sister who genuinely loved her. She was lucky in that regard. Not everyone has family who loves and cares about them. Not everyone had sisters (and a brother) who were always there for them no matter what. That thought made her heart stir. Just a little.

Lucy's hand crept into Leni's, and Leni squeezed, looking down at her and smiling.

 _I think I_ am _in love with my sister._

This time around, that thought brought not shame, but happiness.


	8. Makeover

They got home from the park at three, after stopping at the ice cream parlor and the coffee shop. As they walked home, Leni sipped her chi latte, the sips becoming increasingly bigger until she ripped off the top and downed the last mouthful.

Lucy was halfway done with hers. "Here," he said, and handed it to Leni.

"Oh, I couldn't," Leni said.

"Please," Lucy said. "I insist."

"Well...okay!" She grabbed the cup and tossed it back. "I love these things!"

Lucy laughed. "I can tell."

"It's, like, fashion, but for my mouth." She stopped and held a finger to her chin. "That didn't come out right. I like it as much as I like fashion, but in my mouth."

"How many of those could you drink at one time?" Lucy asked as they started walking again.

"Well," Leni said thoughtfully, "I drank six the day...the other day. I probably could have drank more."

"That's a lot," Lucy said.

"I know. I spent the whole night cleaning the house because I was so wired." She giggled. "Like, I was washing a sponge with a sponge."

Leni didn't mention that the coffee wasn't the only thing that kept her awake that horrible night: She was worried suck about Lucy, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw her youngest sister lying in blood tinged water.

They turned onto Franklin Avenue then. Lucy's hand crept into Leni's, and Leni squeezed. Lucy was just the cutest thing. She was so lovey-dovey and sweet. Leni hoped that meant she wasn't feeling sad anymore. She didn't want her sister to feel sad, especially when she was such a sweet little girl.

In the front yard, Lana was playing a mud and Lincoln and Lynn were playing baseball, Lincoln looking tired and _not_ impressed. He turned when he noticed them coming up the street, and Leni smiled. "Hey, Lincy!"

"Where have _you_ two been?" he asked.

"We went for a walk," Leni replied.

As they passed, Lincoln grabbed Leni's arm. "Save me," he whispered.

"I'm, like, not a minister, Linc. You have to go to church for that."

It wasn't until she was inside that she realized he meant save him from Lynn because he didn't want to play anymore. She slapped her head. She turned just as Lucy came into the house. "Tell Lincy he has a phone call."

Lucy grinned. "Lincoln! Phone!"

"Oops," he said, dropping the bat, "gotta go."

He ran inside and shut the door. "Thanks," he panted.

"You're welcome," Leni said.

Upstairs, she went into her room and sat down. Lucy followed. Aw. She was like a little goth puppy dog.

"Leni?"

"Yeah?"

Lucy sighed. She didn't think she would like this, but she didn't want her time with Leni to end yet. "Can you...give me a makeover?"

Leni's eyes widened. She balled her fists and brought them to her chest like a woman praying to Jesus. "Eeeeeee! Yes!"

Five minutes later, Lucy was sitting in a chair with a pink apron around her neck. Leni stood behind her, playing with her hair. It felt good, relaxing...worth whatever Leni would do to her. She had, after all, given her the go ahead to do whatever she wanted. She just hoped that she wouldn't go overboard.

"I have the perfect look in mind," Leni said happily, "you're going to look so adorable."

"I trust you," Lucy said.

"Good."

As Leni worked, Lucy thought about what she would do. She was in love with Leni. At least she thought she was. Where did she go from here? Should she tell her?

She pictured every possible reaction Leni could have, from loving her back to thinking she was a disgusting abomination and shunning her for the rest of her life. The joy of Leni loving her back didn't seem worth the risk of Leni despising her. She could live with unrequited love, but she didn't think she could live with one of her siblings (Leni especially) hating her. Was Leni even capable of hatred? Lucy didn't see the capacity in her, but you never know. A lot of people said Ted Bundy was a great guy and were absolutely _floored_ when he was arrested for killing a bunch of people. Human beings are funny creatures: It's rarely ever the one-eyed hobo with a scruffy beard who rapes and kills, it's the hardworking family man and community pillar. John Wayne Gacy threw block parties and dressed up like a clown for sick kids in the hospital; Ted Bundy was a charming and good looking college student; Ed Gien was a simple farmer and part time babysitter everyone thought was odd, but not "dig up dead bodies and decorate his house with their lips, faces, and genitals" weird. She didn't think Leni was a serial killer, but she certainly wouldn't put it past her to _hate_ , even if it seemed contrary to her very nature.

Even if she didn't outright hate her, things might be awkward between them, and she might not want to spend as much time with her, and Lucy was coming to very much enjoy the time were together. When she was with Leni, she wasn't depressed, and things seemed brighter, more bearable.

Leni was in front of her now, her eyes intense. "Tilt your head down."

Lucy did.

"Now up. And close your eyes."

She did, and felt Leni cutting her bangs. _Not too much!_

Over the next forty-five minutes, Lucy waited with trembling anticipation for Leni to hurry up and finish. First the hair. Then the face. Make-up. Ugh.

Finally, Leni exhaled. "All done."

"Let me see," Lucy said.

Leni handed her a mirror, and Lucy held it away from her face for a moment. What was she going to look like?

Not bad, she hoped.

She looked into the mirror, and gasped.

"Do you like it?" Leni asked nervously.

"I _love_ it!"

Her bangs were cut back just enough to reveal her eyes, which Leni had shadowed in blue and black. Her lips were (very lightly) brushed a dull red. Her hair was done up in a ponytail: She shook her head, and shivered at the way it tickled her neck. She looked different, but in a good way.

For the first time in her life, she thought she was beautiful.

"Yay!" Leni said and clapped.

Lucy stared at herself, a wide grin spreading across her face. She jumped up and hugged Leni. "I love it and I love you."

"Aw, I love you too," Leni said, and hugged her back.

"Come on," Lucy said excitedly, "I want to show off."


	9. What Would Leni Do?

"Wow," mom said, her eyes widening. They were at the table, the nightly meal laid before them. Her parents and her siblings gaped at her, and she could barely suppress a satisfied smile.

"I can see your eyes," Luan said with something like wonder. "I can remember the last time I saw your eyes."

"You look..." Luna started, then stopped. She was going to say _better_ , but she didn't want to imply that there was anything wrong with the way her sister looked before. "Great."

"Thank you," Lucy said. "Leni did it."

"Me," Leni said and raised her hand.

"You certainly did a good job," dad said, stabbing a piece of meat with his fork and lifting it to his mouth. "I can barely recognize her."

"How do you feel?" mom asked.

"Great," Lucy said, and allowed a grin. "It's nice...but not too girly. Leni's a miracle worker."

"That's wonderful."

They ate in relative silence after that, Lucy preferring to think that they were all letting themselves grow accustomed to her new look. As she ate, she stole furtive glances at Leni, her heart swelling with love. She thought again of kissing her on the mouth, but something about that distressed her. She was afraid of ruining their relationship, true, but there was something else, something new. She sat down her fork and thought, really _thought_ , about it. The thought of kissing Leni, beautiful and exciting the night before, seemed...not enough? Yes. But also...vulgar?

Yes. Vulgar. Insufficient. She gazed at her sister. Her love for Leni was...different. It was special, pure, somehow beyond mere displays of affection. It was a spiritual love, and she imagined that this is what Jesus (if he were real) must feel for his children. She was not in love with her sister's body, but with her soul, and her heart. She realized that now, and it nearly bowled her over.

With trembling fingers, she picked her fork back up and started to eat again, wondering vaguely what you did when you were spiritually in love with someone. Marriage, right? Marriage meant that you loved someone so much that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with them. Married couples kissed and had sex. Lucy did not want to kiss and/or have sex with her sister. She may have thought she did, but she was wrong. Kissing and sex were a way of becoming one with somebody. It was a way of trying to absorb the other person into your very being.

She wanted to be one with Leni. She wanted their spirits to intertwine, she wanted to lose herself in her sister's beautiful, good-natured heart.

Despair filled her. How did you do _that_? Melding your body to another body was easy, but how could you meld two souls? She didn't know, and that made her shoulders heavy. She finished her dinner, asked to be excused, and went upstairs, where she sat alone on her bed. Soon, Lynn came in and dropped onto her own bed. "I really like your hair," she said.

"Thanks," Lucy said, faraway.

"I mean it." Lynn rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. "I don't get all girly, but...it looks nice."

"I think so too."

"Are you going to keep it?"

Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her immediate reaction was to say yes, and while she _did_ plan to keep it, she suddenly considered the possibility of letting Leni do something else with it; Leni _was_ a miracle worker, after all, and if she could make Lucy look better one way, she could do it another.

"Yeah," she finally said, "but I might see if she can do it another way. Try new styles."

"That's cool," Lynn said, lying on her back. "Never hurts to change things up."

"Yeah," Lucy said. She thought she might change other things about herself. Change was good, right?

That night, she tossed and turned, trying to sleep but finding sleep difficult to capture. She thought of Leni, her boundless optimism even as her brain was slowly eaten away, her kind, generous nature. She reminded Lucy a lot of Lincoln. Lincoln had a kind heart and would go out of his way for you. Leni was similar. She was a beautiful creature.

How could she be so goddamn happy when she was dying? How could she have such a sunny disposition when in a few short years she would be a raving madwoman locked away in a nursing home?

Lucy's thoughts turned back to what her sister had said at the mall.

 _How can it not bother you?_ Lucy asked.

 _Because it makes every day I don't have to be in a nursing home that much better. It's, like, a gift or something._

To Leni, even in the face of drawing doom, every day was a gift.

And here was little Lucy Loud, cutting her wrists because she was sad. Awww.

She felt like shit.

 _What would Leni do?_

Not feel sorry for herself.

Lucy took a deep breath. Leni would be happy and optimistic. Lucy would do the same. Tomorrow she could spend more time with her big sister. Tomorrow she could be in the presence of an angel.

Lucy drifted peacefully to sleep.


	10. Sisters are Forever

Lucy stayed with Leni always. Over the course of days and months, their bond grew. Leni watched as her sister's depression slowly lifted, and she was so happy she could barely contain herself. In turn, Lucy watched as Leni's Rentschler's improved for a time. She became less ditzy, though she _did_ become more forgetful.

When she turned eighteen, Lori left for college, and Lucy moved into her old spot. She felt bad about leaving Lynn alone; Lynn encouraged the move, but Lucy knew deep down that Lynn missed her, and even though she was happy with Leni as a roommate, she missed Lynn too.

When _she_ turned eighteen, Leni was accepted into a design school in Chicago; she started in September, and that summer, she and Lucy were inseparable. Lucy would sit before Leni for hours on end and let her do whatever she wanted with her hair and face. Streaks, highlights, dye. One day her hair was purple, the next it was orange. Somedays her face was so caked with makeup that she couldn't smile without it cracking, and others it was barely noticeable. Her siblings made fun of her rainbow hair and her heavy make-up: Luna said she looked like "The dude from Twisted Sister," and while she didn't know who that was or what he looked like, she knew it wasn't exactly a compliment. She didn't care, though. It was for Leni, and that's all that mattered.

On the day before Leni left for Chicago, she and Lucy sat up talking long into the night. When they did finally sleep, they slept in the same bed, Lucy clinging desperately to her big sister. "Don't worry," Leni said, "I'll visit all the time."

"I just don't want to lose you."

"Aw, you won't. Sisters are forever."

Lucy was going to miss her so much.

After Leni left, Lucy moved back in with Lynn. Her depression returned, but it was muted. She always had holidays to look forward to, and would count down the days to Christmas, summer break, Easter, and Thanksgiving. Leni visited often. Sometimes she would take the train up for the weekend, and she and Lucy would walk the mall and drink chi lattes. Leni was always smiling and radiant when she visited. She was the top of her class, and her teacher, a well-known designer from the West Coast, said she would go far.

Leni graduated after three years and immediately got a job with a firm in Chicago. Lucy was happy for her, but disappointed too; she kind of hoped Leni would come home, for at least a little while. Leni made good money, and after a while, her designs started to appear in magazines. Lucy would buy a dozen copies each and store them in her closet, leaving one out to look at; seeing Leni's work made her feel not so far away.

When she was 13, Lucy visited her sister in Chicago for the first time; Lincoln came with her, as mom didn't want her travelling alone. Leni met them at the train station, and for two days, they explored the city. Leni would point out places and things with pride, as though she had created them personally. Her apartment was spacious and overlooked a wooded park. It was furnished in the modern style, lots of black and white and chrome.

As her teen years progressed, Lucy began to wonder who she was and what she wanted from life. Leni was a fashion designer, Lori was married and working in a middle management position, and Luna was playing bars and clubs with her band. But what about her? Who was _she_?

It never occurred to her that her poetry would define her, but when she was 15, she submitted a poem to a contest and won five hundred dollars and publication in a national newsstand magazine. The rush of excitement she felt decided her. This is what she would do.

She worked hard, writing, rewriting, and reading, reading, reading. She published a few more poems in her teens, but made very little money. When she was eighteen, Leni invited her to move in with her, and she jumped at the chance.

In Chicago, she got a job at a coffee shop and wrote in her off time. She completed a dozen poems in her first few months, and sold all but two of them. She met a man, fell in love, and then fell out of love. She quit her job because her boss was a bitch, and found another job. Her boss there was a bitch too, but Lucy put up with it. Leni told her time and again that she didn't have to work, but Lucy didn't want to live off her sister.

When she was 22, Lucy met the editor of _The New Yorker_ at one of the fancy parties Leni occasionally dragged her too. He was familiar with her work and wanted her to send him something, which made her giddy. She did, and by the time she was 25, she had been published in those hallowed pages five times, and her star was rising. She put out a book of poetry when she was 26 that didn't sell very well, but got great reviews in the literary magazines; _The New York Times_ did a write-up on it.

When Leni was 35, she started going downhill. She was more forgetful, more absent-minded. Sometimes Lucy would find her standing in front of a wall and panicking because she couldn't find the door. She would take her sister's hand, calm her, and lead her away, her heart breaking.

At 37, Leni was starting to forget major things. Like how to cook. One night, she almost burned the apartment down. Dad died that summer, and when they went home for the funeral, Leni could barely recognize Royal Woods. She got lost walking from the pizzeria home, and Lucy spent nearly an hour frantically searching for her before finding her at the coffee shop sipping a chi latte. "When did they put this here?" she asked of the shop; it had always been there.

Two months after turning 38, Leni started having nightmares, and often, Lucy would sleep with her, cradling her in her arms and whispering softly to her. One nightmare that occurred often had Lucy leaving her alone.

"I would _never_ do that," Lucy said, "sisters are forever."

They visited the nation's top neurologists, but none of them could stop the inevitable decay of Leni's mind. It was 2039, and Rentschler's Disease was still largely untreatable, though there was an experimental medication that claimed to slow it. It was expensive, but they had money. It stopped the nightmares and blunted the worst of the other symptoms, but did not stop them.

Through all of this, Leni continued working. She was well-known in her field; her original designs were modeled on runways in New York, London, and Paris, and appeared in Hollywood movies. Lucy knew that while her art would be the final thing to go, it eventually _would_ go.

When she was 45, it did; once that one, solid part of her mind collapsed, it was rapidly downhill. She was 46 when the dementia set in; she talked out of her head, spoke to people who weren't there, and could barely dress herself. The hallucinations and paranoia were the worst; sometimes she saw spiders on the walls, and would go into hysterics. Other times, she would become _certain_ that Lucy was trying to poison her, and even though Lucy knew it was the disease talking, it hurt her. Mom died in 2048, and Lucy couldn't go to the funeral because Leni was so bad off. Her siblings understood, but some of them suggested that she put Leni in a private nursing home. "You can afford the best," Lisa said. She had been working with NASA since she was twenty and carrying out her own research and experiments on the side. She held several patents, had discovered several new species of animals and plants, and shared a Nobel Prize with a Dutch scientist when she was 30; she didn't exactly _cure_ cancer, but her research led directly to its death rate dropping by half.

So smart, yet so, so stupid. "I couldn't do that," Lucy replied, "it would be like throwing her away. I...I just can't."

"I understand your feelings, but a place like that is better equipped to take care of her."

Deep down Lucy knew it was true, but she tried to imagine her sister alone in a nursing home, attended by friendly staff that could do anything you asked them to...except love the way a sister could, and found the prospect disturbing. Leni was difficult sometimes, but she made a vow, and she was damn well going to keep it. 

So Lucy kept her at home. She bathed her, cleaned up her accidents, and cared for her. Sometimes, she fell into depression; though Leni was there in body, she was not in mind, in spirit. At least for the most part. She had lucid days here and there, and those made it easier; they would talk for hours, Leni's confusion showing, but manageable. She had forgotten mom and died were dead, and Lucy didn't have the heart to remind her; she also kept referring to her siblings as though she were still kids, even as she talked about Lisa's NASA career, Luna's three big hits (and eventual lapse into obscurity), and Lynn coaching at the University of Michigan. Holding a copy of a comic book that Lincoln had written and drawn, she said, "He's going to be so rich and, like, famous when he grows up."

He wasn't rich, though he did well for himself, and he wasn't famous, though he wasn't exactly unknown.

As time progressed, Leni's lucid days became fewer and farther between. She screamed, raved, and shit herself. Lucy cleaned it up without complaint, though some days she was so exhausted that she collapsed into bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She barely wrote, and that left her feeling restless. She did manage a novel during this time, and it was published by Simon and Schuster in 2051; it just missed the _New York Times Bestseller List_ , but that was okay with her.

Leni died two months after turning 54. Lucy figured it was coming: She had been lucid for nearly a week, and Lucy suspected that she had been granted that final stretch of clarity to say goodbye. For five days, Lucy rarely left her side. They talked, laughed, cried, and drank dozens and dozens of chi lattes.

On Saturday night, Leni lapsed into a coma. The next morning, she died as Lucy held her hand and cried. She was in a daze until the funeral, when she broke down and wept. Her siblings comforted her.

The apartment in Chicago was lonely. She sold it and moved back to Royal Woods, taking a room above the hardware store. It was small, but she liked it that way: Less space to fill.

She wrote another novel, this one actually making the bestseller list. She wrote more poems. She sank into depression. She contemplated cutting her wrists again. What stopped her was the knowledge that every day was a gift, and that somewhere, Leni might be watching, and Lucy did not want to put her sister through the same pain she did when she was 8.

Life went on. It was not as sweet, but she had many good years with her sister, and she was thankful for that.


End file.
